


"Do You Remember?"

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, M/M, NyxNoct Mentioned, Slice of Life, childhood nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-10-30 15:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10879704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: The Chocobros have always been some part of Noct's life.





	1. Monsters Under the Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also over at [Tumblr](http://aithilin.tumblr.com/).

“Do you remember,” Noct started one night when they were alone in the shared bedroom at Cape Caem, taking a break after a series of hunts, waiting for Cid to call with promised upgrades; “that time you snuck into my bed?”

It was just the two of them here, right now: Noct sprawled out across the bed he had claimed and Ignis looking over their maps. Ignis tapped out a rhythm on the ancient coffee table with the pen he had been using to mark their progress, their ‘quests’ as Prompto called them, and the little tidbits of information of sources of free food he had picked up, did little more than glance up to his prince at the question. “Which time? I recall several.”

“The first.”

“Ah.”

Prompto was out with his camera— to capture the contrast of steel-grey clouds moving in against the reds and golds of the sunset on the water, to catch the way the waves crashed against the rocks below and swept the creatures away with the tide, to chase the way the view from the lighthouse promised far wider horizons than they were able to travel— until Gladio dragged him back inside. Until Iris tired of her brother’s attempts to help with the garden, and his teasing as she sat on his back for his routine of push-ups. Their companions out to explore the peace of the cape— their little home— despite Monica and the hunters keeping a regular barrier in place, despite the way Cor came and went like a ghost skirting the edges of the peace they were sheltering in. That they were trying to hide their prince— their king, Ignis continuously tried to correct in his own mind— in. 

“What made you think of that, Noct?”

“Nothing.”

Ignis smiled in the quiet of the room, setting his pen down and turning on a second light as the sun dipped lower; “You were nine, I believe? Just home from Tenebrae.”

The news of the attack had been devastating, not only on the prince when he was out with a trusted guard, but then again within the safety of a friendly nation. Within the sacred halls housing the Oracle and her children. There had been times when Ignis had wished he had been there with them, with Noct. That he could have seem Noct through his coma, through the treatments and care. That he hadn’t had to wait with his own family, as the news filtered in through Niflheim reports and Lucian news sources. 

He had once wished he could have been there, just to share the burden of the bad dreams with the prince.

“Yeah.”

He nudged Noct over on the narrow bed, smiling at the glare it earned him. “And no matter how much I tried to explain to you just why it was impossible, you insisted there was a monster under your bed.”

“It was a nightmare, Iggy.”

One that had resulted in them both huddled under the thick blankets, a flashlight in hand, smiling as they took turns reading from a story book. One that had Ignis shining a light under the too-large bed, as Noct clutched a small toy of Carbuncle close, and awaited the verdict that there were no hidden monsters lurking in the royal rooms— the words of an adviser a couple of years older clearly carrying more weight than actual logic in the mind of a scared prince.

“That you’re thinking about.”

Ignis was too tall for the beds here in the Caem. They were comfortable enough, soft enough, but he and Gladio had, more than once, ended up spreading their equipment out on the creaking floor and making a camp out of the room. Usually while Prompto and Noctis laughed at them from the beds they were better suited to. But he could still rest comfortably enough to put an arm around Noct like he used to when the prince had a nightmare, and was too frantic to call for his father. Or in the rare instance that his father was away, and Noct’s cries to him were unanswered. 

He remembered plenty of times when he had found Noct, half asleep and scared, wandering the hall to his father’s rooms after a particularly bad dream. He remembered the boy jumping at shadows and fearful until the king gathered him up with a soft smile and a thank you before sending Ignis back to his own bed— only in the Citadel to serve as a constant for Noct in his recovery. He remembered the times the king was away, or late in getting to his own rest because of his work, and Noct was just a lost child scared of the shadows and his own pain. 

“Think dad ever came here? To get away from the city?” Noct asked, used to the way Ignis’ hand rested on his shoulder, the way it propped him up a bit once Ignis had wormed his way closer. 

“Possibly,” Ignis agreed— he could understand the draw for the king, if it meant a short break from the weight of his duty, his crown. “But I don’t see him coming here without you. Certainly not if you were still suffering from those nightmares.”

“He trusted you to take care of that.”

“Even so, Noct. You father would have taken you here.”

He was certain of that. The boy he had grown up with, the young prince, would have loved exploring Caem. He could see the young Noctis running the paths and trying to climb the trees for a better view. He could see himself trailing after with Gladio, as they often had around the Citadel and the city. He could picture it, well enough, that he almost wished it had happened. That the royal family, as small and shattered as it was, could have had those few moments of rest in a place like this. 

“Your father was there when you had nightmares,” Ignis said, carefully, measured, testing the tone that would have brought on this topic; “I know you remember that.”

“I know, I know,” Noct heaved a sigh and pushed himself up, offering a smile— a haphazard one, Ignis recognised from the days he had pressed too much; “I’m fine, Specs. You going to show me what you were working on?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What?”

There were very few times he could say that he surprised Noct, but Ignis enjoyed every wide-eyed look of indignity when he did. He folded his hands over his stomach, crossed his ankles, and settled more into the bed. “I’m comfortable now, your highness.”

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

“I believe so.”

He barely caught himself from falling off the bed with Noct’s shove, schooling his surprise as Noct grinned— that silly, childish grin that belied his age, his duty, his responsibilities and tasks. That grin that Ignis remembered best from their youth; “Get your own bed, Specs.”

He shoved back, a grin of his own, “Make me, Noct.”


	2. Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto finds a true love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't writing, this was babysitting...

“Oh!” Noctis nearly jumped when Prompto tapped the side of his arm in excitement, grinning as he started towards the ancient game machines tucked away in the corner of the diner; “Do you remember these, Noct? Just like the ones back home!”

There were a handful of arcades they had visited regularly in Insomnia, the newer games crowded around the entrances and wide windows, around the little cafes vending machines and tables squeezed into the corners. They had always gravitated to the older ones relegated to the darkened, back corners; the ones usually left for nostalgic purchases, for the older crowd that could name when the games first started appearing. This was one of the old vanity pieces, one of the beasts of a machine that would have been a “pride and joy” piece for the arcade owner, set out to collect dust because it still took coins rather than the little cards that were available and interchangeable at a dozen different places. 

Noct grinned as Prompto pulled him over to the old game, “Yeah. Man, we used to play this one all the time.”

“May I remind you that we are trying to beat the bad weather?” Despite the warning, the sternness of the tone, Ignis was already settling into one of the nearby booths. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time we got caught in a storm,” Noct smiled as Prompto started searching his pockets for a spare coin. “We can spare some time, right? Just a few rounds.”

“If asked, tell Gladio I was against this.”

Prompto beamed as he finally managed to slide a coin into the near-ancient slot of the game, practically jumping for joy as the bright lights flickered to life and the machine hummed once he had assumed the traditional stance at the buttons and joystick. It wasn’t one of those bulky, hulking masses of light and noise that made up most of the pinball machines around the kingdom— it didn’t release brightly coloured balls and buzzers to rack up scores on a tiny screen. This was a sleek, elegant mix of machine and plastic, thrumming under Prompto’s worshipping hands and drawing life under his grin as he released the first shining silver ball into the arena. “Your idea, got it, Iggy.”

Noct nodded, eyes trained on the way Prompto timed the strikes of the well-oiled markers and bumpers, sending the little shining bullet across the playfield. “Right, your idea.”

By the time Gladio joined them in the diner, it was raining. The Regalia was full, Ignis had a coffee and a newspaper, and Prompto’s score was climbing on the display. At the questioning look from his friend, Ignis simply offered a shrug; “My idea, apparently.”

“Okay…” Gladio settled into the booth with Ignis, eyes on Noct cheering his friend on as a new ball was won; “we leaving here today?”

“Possibly. I would inquire about renting that caravan again, though. Just in case.”

“Could just come back for them. Save the kingdom ourselves, circle ‘round to pick up Noct on the way home.”

“Mm. It would certainly be a quieter adventure.”

“You know I can hear you two, right?” Noct glared at them, getting a swat from Prompto as he nearly tilted the machine when he shifted his weight, moving that subtle inch from leaning against the braced legs— where the weight of the glittering backboard and gloating scoreboard was secured— to the edge of the playfield. 

“Dude! You need to be gentle with her!”

“Her?”

“She’s too beautiful to be a guy, Noct,” Prompto risked letting go of a button to push his friend away to a safer distance; “we’ve been over this. Like a hundred times.”

Gladio nodded, getting up to place an order for dinner; “You really have.”

Ignis shifted in the booth as Noct approached— thoroughly banished from the cheering section of the game as Prompto tried to refocus, to return to the level of worship and sacrifice that had his score climbing and extra ammo locked into place. He set his mug down, barely noticing as Noct lifted it to examine the dregs. “Another coffee, Iggy? Prompto’s on a roll there.”

“Please,” Ignis nodded, having made enough room in the booth for Noctis to join him once the refill was added to their dinner bill. To their rental agreement for the caravan set up outside. 

The extra plate of food was cold by the time Prompto had joined them, Noct skimming the paper once Ignis had set it in front of him. The conversation buzzed between them easily— from the status of the car and whether they should visit Cindy to see if she could help tune her up again with the parts they had found, to whether or not the rumours of the ancient Lucian artifacts printed in the paper was a trap— until Prompto settled with a satisfied groan in the booth next to Gladio. The three sharing a smile as Gladio looked the blond over with a critical eye. 

“You look happy.” 

“Good match?” Noct asked, lifting his mug to hide the smirk behind his cooling coffee. 

Ignis nodded, folding up the paper now that they had regrouped; “You do seem satisfied.”

“It was _amazing_. I’m in love, guys,” Prompto sighed, picking at the fries on his plate, not even trying to hide the smile. Head tilted back against the divider between the booths as if he was dazed, as if he was exhausted. “So, _so_ good.”

“Should I call Cindy? Or should Iggy break it to her?” Noct was still grinning as he gathered up their mugs to return to the counter. “Because I don’t think I’m diplomatic enough to break her heart like that.”

“Specs, definitely,” Gladio agreed, settling back, fingers drumming against the table; “he has a way with words.”

“Guys, guys, Cindy doesn’t need to know about this! Besides, have you seen her with the Regalia?”


	3. Training

“Do you even remember her,” Gladio asked one day, knocking Noct back into the dust of Leide with a well- timed block; “it’s been years since you’ve been in the same country, let alone the same room.”

“Of course I remember Luna,” Noct pulled himself up, brushing off the sand and flecks of stone. He stepped back across the haven, readjusted his grip on his sword; “we’ve been in contact.”

“Right,” from where he was standing, Gladio looked over the prince, assessed the streaks of dust ad dirt and reassured himself that there was no damage done. With sword hoisted up and balanced across broader shoulders, he returned to his own starting position. As with most of their training sessions, he tried to work out new advantages for Noct, tried to test his skills with the sun in his eye, with the light glinting and gleaming off his own weapon. He may not have the armour the MTs did— thankfully not polished to the same shine as the Crownsguard official armour— but the size of his blade or shield was enough to reflect the same sort of distraction in these sessions; “royal mail through Umbra doesn’t really count, you know.”

“It’s still communication,” rolling his shoulders, Noct moved to the starting stance that Gladio had drilled into him since he was young. “Are we doing this, or not?”

Gladio smirked and moved from sword to shield, “Communication doesn’t mean love, you know. Warp-strikes, Noct. You’ve been slowing down.”

“Slowing down?” 

Gladio barely had the time to brace himself before Noct’s weapon— and then Noct himself— was slamming into his shield. “Don’t get huffy, your highness.”

They had years of this sort of practice together; Gladio taking the brunt of an edged weapon, followed by the full force of the prince using his own body to either push him back or drive the weapon just that much deeper. But this was without the safety of their training weapons— without the promise of dulled edges and softer blows. He barely had time to get his shield into position before he felt the force of a dagger embedding itself; barely had enough time to brace before Noct was slammed into the shield. 

“Definitely slower,” he pushed back with the shield, caught Noct’s arm before he stumbled too far back. With a grin, he made sure the prince was back on his feet before he released him with a gentler press back towards their starting points for another round. 

“You do understand that I actually need to throw the weapon, right?”

“But you don’t need to wait for it to make impact.”

Gladio had been training Noct for years, had years of Noct’s frustration aimed at him. He was used to seeing the anger flash through the prince, pushed at it before his charge could withdraw from him, before Noct could hide from it. He knew that look as Noct stretched and adjusted the grip on his daggers. As Noct refused to look directly at him, because they had stopped glaring at each other over petty shit in training ages ago. It could take time to work through whatever was frustrating them each and every time, but they had the benefit of being able to pummel each other when needed. 

“Again,” Gladio instructed, knowing that Noct was slamming into him shoulder first instead of blade first— instead of using his weight to drive the weapon in deeper like he should. “You already know you can’t hurt me, Noct. Do better.”

As soon as his shield was in place, he heard the shatter of magic before he saw it. He could feel the way it edged against his senses, a sharp crackle of power in the air rattling against the peace of the haven’s own, older magics. He had been watching Noct warp ever since the prince learnt the trick, ever since he started training with the best of the Kingsglaive to perfect technique and timing. He had been watching someone else train what he couldn’t ever since it became clear that his own affinity for magic was minimal; that he wouldn’t just pick up the tricks Noct could lend him, not like Iggy, or even like Prompto. His father’s guidance was always just “keep an eye on him,” but it had been years since Regis had been capable of proper sparring. Proper practice with his Shield. 

The magic wasn’t killing Noct yet. 

Gladio had always hoped that he could get Noct strong enough to resist the drain of Lucian power. That Noct could be stronger. That he wouldn’t have to watch his friend die slowly in his duty. He had started reading Professor Yeagre’s theories on the strains of magic on a biological system— her theories of where the magic might stem from, and how elements of it could be observed in the beasts native to Lucis— because he had wanted to protect the same way his father did. He had wanted to learn just what it was that was going to happen to Noct once he took his place, once they each assumed their fathers’ roles. He had wanted to be sure there wasn’t a way to help Noct fight his own magic. 

He had never believed his father when he was told that it was just what happened to a Lucian king. 

Noct knocked him off his feet before the dagger hit his shield, the air broke around them just a little bit sooner, and he felt the full force of Noct using his own body as a battering ram against him. 

“Better?” Noct grinned down at him, offering a hand. 

“Better,” Gladio agreed, pulling his friend down to the dirt with him. Happy to see that smile again, that familiar touch of pride when Noct knew that he had done well; “Much better.”

“And what the hell do you mean I can’t hurt you?” Noct demanded, pulling himself up to sit on their training grounds rather than lie on the warm stone. “I’ve broken your arm before.”

“That doesn’t count, it was before I knew you could warp.”

“You’re supposed to know everything.”

“That’s Iggy, your highness. We’re very different.”

“Not that much,” Noct grinned, waving as he spotted the Regalia pass their little strip of road, pull off to the shoulder where it was still within easy view. He moved to get up, stopped by Gladio’s hand on his arm; “What?”

“About Luna, Noct, do you remember her? Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As Gladio got up and pulled Noct back to his feet, ruffling his hand through the prince’s hair to dislodge the dust until he was swatted away; “You don’t have to marry her, you know.”

“It’s duty, though, right? You’re the one who keeps reminding me of my role and duty and… _kingliness_.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t want to die for a brat,” Gladio smirked, started setting the camp back up. He handed the folded chairs to Noct; “That treaty’s broken, you don’t have to hold to it.”

“But I do need to catch up to Luna and make sure she’s not in danger. She’s just as caught up in this as I am.”

“Finally talking about pulling your weight? I like it.”

“Funny, Gladio.”

“Of course I am, your highness. Set up Iggy’s stuff when you’re done there.”


	4. First Love

“What are you doing, Little Star?” 

He hadn't meant to muffle his voice against his arms, hadn't meant to start dozing as he had. The bed had just been too inviting; Noctis curled as he had been on top of the light covers, dressed in just the too-big shirt stolen from the closet when he stayed the night. Nyx hadn't meant to fall into bed next to the prince, still damp from his shower and finally able to relax after a long mission away on the front lines. 

But waking up to Noct stroking nimble fingers through his hair, along his scalp, was nice. Waking up to Noct pulling his hair with familiar little tugs that would separate into braids was even better. 

“Do you remember our first time together?”

“Of course,” Nyx twisted on the bed with a grin. He caught Noct’s hand and pressed a kiss to the prince’s wrist— hummed at the beat of the pulse beneath his lips. He smiled as he felt that pulse— that promise of life— skip just that much faster under his attention; as he felt the heat of rushing blood and ingrained magic beneath Noct’s pallid skin and his own lips. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Noct was smiling, eyes trained on Nyx’a lips as the kisses trails along his forearm. Clever blue eyes taking in details and committing them to a memory Nyx hoped would be kept well— would make Noct smile. 

“Your curiosity leads to interesting things, Little Star.”

“Not this time.”

“No?”

“No.”

Nyx released his grip on Noct’s hand and moved to lay on his back with a groan. Arm thrown over his eyes in mock despair, still grinning. The air of pained drama ineffective against the prince and that wry smile. “Why do I love such a tease?”

He could see Noct’s surprise— the subtle way those too-blue eyes widened, the way his lips parted as a sarcastic retort died once he processed what Nyx had said— from the corner of his eye, and tried to keep his grin in check. He had been thinking about it ever since leaving for the front lines, turning the emotions and phrase and sentiment through his mind on the ride out. He had analyzed his own emotions during each peaceful moment, thought back to Galahd and home and the prince he wanted to show it all to. He let his mind swim in the idea until he was drowning in it. He had occupied himself with the idea throughout the mission, spent hours of their downtime trying to imagine how he would tell Noct— to find the perfect phrase and words and way to tell Noct what he thought and felt— and trying to imagine what Noct’s reaction would be. 

He wasn't disappointed by having finally managed to shock the prince into silence. Or the soft “you love me?” that followed with a quiet air of wonder. 

In the small apartment Nyx kept, tucked deep into the layers of the bustling Galahdian district of Insomnia, they had always been careful to shed whatever roles or titles they carried outside in the world. Here, Nyx was not just a dedicated Glaive and Noct wasn't the heir to the throne. Here, neither of them were anything different or special or other than what they were to each other. 

“Of course, Little Star. Don't look so surprised,” Nyx reached for Noct again, grinning as the prince moved to his lap. He settled his hands on Noct’s hips and inched the light shirt up a little bit further. “Now, are you going to tell me why you were reminiscing about our first time together? Or am I free to make some new memories?”

Noct would always remember the kisses that followed, the way Nyx laughed and teased, and the way that soft hair felt in his hands. He would always remember the warmth of the other man and the sweet names muttered against his throat as they were followed by groans and pleas and promises. 

“I love you,” Noct remembered muttering in the small bed, in the peace of the small apartment. He remembered pressing it to warm skin, soft promises chased by Nyx’s smile and bright eyes. 

It had been ages since he thought of that moment. Ages since he thought of that little apartment that must have burned with the rest of the city. Ages since he let himself ache and mourn and let tears sting his eyes. 

“Noct,” Ignis started, arms wrapping around him, pulling him close; “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.” 

“It’s fine,” he wanted to insist. He wanted to reassure Iggy, but he knew that his oldest friend would see through it. Even if he never pressed the matter. “I just…”

“You didn't have time.”

“Neither did you,” none of them really had time to think of Insomnia and those who didn't escape. Those who fell with it. 

“All the same,” Iggy pressed a kiss— light, quick— to Noct’s temple before he pulled away. Before Noct caught him and pulled him back; leaned against Iggy like he used to when he was young. “I shouldn't have asked.”

All Ignis had asked, when they had this moment of quiet between them— settled on the edge of a haven, watching the beasts navigate the roads and gather close to the streetlights— this moment of what could have been something, was: “do you even remember your first love, Noct?”


End file.
